


Longing (the Like the Stars, I Fall For You remix)

by Abyssiniana



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M, Masturbation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Remix, Season/Series 04, Shiro/Kuron duality, is angsty masturbation a thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssiniana/pseuds/Abyssiniana
Summary: Shiro must have noticed because without even looking at Keith, he asked, “Everything okay over there? I can hear you thinking.”Keith turned his face away so fast that he nearly gave himself whiplash. “I wasn’t thinking… much.”He could perfectly imagine the look on Shiro’s face, one eyebrow raised in question and his expression contorted in confusion.Finally, Shiro’s voice cut the silence. “Keith. Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”You.Keith wanted to say.You and how much I love you.—the remix of TheInsaneFox's "Like the Stars, I Fall For You" fic! I read only the summary and I worked from that.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	Longing (the Like the Stars, I Fall For You remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheInsaneFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInsaneFox/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Like the Stars, I Fall For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18296882) by [TheInsaneFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInsaneFox/pseuds/TheInsaneFox). 



**_Longing_ ** **(the** **_Like The Stars, I Fall For You_ ** **remix)**

It began with a corner smile and ended with a stab wound.

It was some sort of poison, a ticklish sensation down his throat that spread across his lungs with a gradual burning until it clogged his nose, until it scorched through his inner walls and contaminated the rest of his organs with a debilitating virus.

The longer Keith allowed it to go on, the deeper the venom of its sting lodged in the core of his heart, tucked in between the barely beating ventricles. Logic trains of thoughts crashed tragically before they reached their destination, muscles forgot their basic function and disobeyed direct orders from his brain, breathing impossible when he,  _ he,  _ **_he_ ** was around.

_ That’s what love was. _

There was no running away from the inevitable, but dare him, **double dare him,** _Keith would fucking try_ until his legs gave in to the ice on the invisible pavement, until his scraped knees hit the ground, until he screamed so loud his throat would rive, until his hair covered his face and his tears learned to dry without being wiped clean.

For someone who trusted in the stars his whole life he should have been able to foretell; and maybe the stars tried to warn him but he always found himself distracted by the typhoon hidden behind the grey eyes of Takashi Shirogane,  _ “just Shiro, call me Shiro” _ .

Keith thought he knew what it was like to be heartbroken, but life had found yet another way to pin him down and fuck him raw in the ass. As if having to watch from the sidelines when there were anniversaries, Garrison briefings, flight classes, medical exams, when Shiro wasn’t able to text back, or when Adam’s mum’s sister’s son’s (who-the-fuck-ever) birthday came up sometime in April, or  _ Kerberos _ , hadn’t been painful enough.

It was probably — he couldn’t tell for sure, how could he back then, he was a kid like every other kid his age, even if he didn’t feel like one, which was also very like every other seventeen-year-old — just before the Kerberos launch that he first realized what love was and how it began with a small ripple which set other bigger, worse ripples in motion. 

_ He thought love hurt, but missing hurt the most. _

He didn’t dare to run his fingers through the tangled mess that was his hair, but he knew just how bad it would look if there was anyone else but him there.

He liked to do that, Shiro. Sometimes he would invite Keith over for dinner and a movie — Adam was away a lot, thank  _ fuck _ — and a movie was only entertaining until the lights dimmed and a shared blanket was laid over them. He would often fall asleep against Shiro’s arm, once he fell to his lap even, and Shiro didn’t move him away but rather, fondled his hair and patiently untangled it. Neither of them was paying attention to the movie anymore but would they truly have chosen a film about the overly romanticized life of some irrelevant diplomat if they planned to pay any attention to it?

It was background noise, white noise to Shiro’s breathing, to Shiro’s unravel, to Keith’s accelerated heartbeat and the mellow touch that travelled in waves of warmth all the way to the young man’s heart.

Poison, contagious, it corroded him from the inside and made him feel filthy,  _ he loved him _ and _ wanted _ him, but the only way to survive was to step away, the farthest he possibly could muster in the vastness of the known Universe.

Or in the farthest limit of the Blade of Marmora base, because there was nowhere else to go.

How had he gone from “You don’t even know me” to “I’ll see you when you come back” to “As many times as it takes” to the physical personification of a mental breakdown in his Marmora quarters, it was beyond him, but it was a one-way road with no room to manoeuvre around a reverse gear.

Love began with a corner smile and ended with a stab wound, and it only took some distance for Keith to realize that he had been the one holding the blade that had sunk into his gut.

His interactions with Shiro had been reduced to the utmost essential; in the feed during a battle, quick debriefings and written notes whenever spoken words were avoidable. Shiro tried, but not as much as he would before.

Before what?  _ Before Keith found him, before Shiro’s disappearance, before they had the Lions, before that year and a half, before Kerberos? _

Things were very different before.

But such as things were, Keith had a boner and a broken heart to attend to. 

All because he couldn’t clear his mind off of Shiro.  _ It’s those eyes _ , it had to be, with that mystical realm that always made Keith feel like he could get lost in the thunderstorm but would always find a way back to him. It was the gentleness of his voice when he called Keith’s name, or the fact that he would always buy two loaves of beetroot bread every Sunday without even asking if Keith wanted one as well (cause of fucking course he did). Or the very particular way that Shiro touched his shoulder —how he squeezed it with just the right amount of pressure, I’m here, I’m with you, I’m not leaving without you, maybe and just  _ maybe I love you back, Keith, just as much as you love me _ — **stop.**

There was no way Keith would ever be that lucky. 

In the sad darkness of his Marmora quarters, Keith couldn’t decide if he should stop crying or keep touching himself. The hand around his dick was barely his, just a dream of how Shiro’s mechanical hand would feel in that same spot, doing the same thing (but Keith’s hand was smaller, less careful, more brute, twitchy, irregular in the seeking of immediate, quick,  _ fast _ pleasure). 

Shiro, he would take his time. Shiro was all about patience, about waiting, about intensifying something that could be instant by delaying it, savouring it, understanding it. 

Keith threw his head back on the pillow; he had no  _ time _ for patience, but he wanted it so bad, he wanted Shiro to whisper in his ear just how much of an _ impatient _ brat he was, how he wanted everything so fast and raw, like how he always ate his food so fast, how he drove the hoverbike too fast with the rush to win the race instead of appreciating the wind cutting his cheeks, how he tended to close his eyes instead of forcing himself to watch as he came — _ oh fuck, he was cumming _ , strings of pearly cum painting his abdomen— and that was what it took for him to start crying again, forearm covering his steamed, teary eyes.

He caught his breath, but just barely, the silent sobs coming in waves as he calmed down from the momentary high that only made the whole thing about falling even steeper.

* * *

It was hard to tell the time in space, even more so when the fight felt closer and closer to being unending. Another planet had been liberated with the combined efforts of Voltron and the Blade of Marmora and willingly joined the Coalition, strengthening the army that would face the tyranny of Emperor Zarkon some time soon, but their progress was so slow, so uncertain, so fearful. 

Under the shade cast by the Black Lion of Voltron — _ always following Keith’s movement with those yellow mechanical eyes, always looking, as if it had something to tell him but was unable to _ — Keith held himself loosely, arms tucked under his armpits as if he were cold in that warm planet. 

From up there on the hill he could spot Allura, Lance and Pidge in the distance, speaking to the locals, assuring them that Voltron would come in their aid no matter what, and Hunk was a few meters away in a heated discussion with another inhabitant who seemed rather interested in his Yellow beast. 

Shiro… was nowhere to be found. Keith was always, automatically, pavlovian-ly seeking him out, even if it was only to make sure they wouldn’t cross paths. But in the refuge of the majestic Black Lion, for once in a very long time, he felt like he had nothing to worry about.

Oh, but he did worry, he couldn’t let go of how ridiculous it was to seek Shiro out only to run away from him. Cowardly, even. That wasn’t the type of man Keith wanted to be, not the type Shiro valued anyway, not that it mattered,  _ it really didn’t matter _ —

“Keith? Good job out there.”

Shiro was in his Paladin armour, helmet under his left arm, the light of the two red suns that the planet orbited around falling so perfectly on the hollow of his cheeks, his mouth a straight line (not smiling, _ why wasn’t he smiling, he didn’t smile as often anymore, but he always used to, he always had a smile reserved for Keith and Keith alone _ —), eyes locking onto Keith’s and it was impossible for the Marmora agent (also a Paladin, always a Paladin of Voltron, no matter what) to look away.

“You too,” Keith managed. In his head, it had sounded kinda like a murmur, not quite cohesive, but Shiro nodded and finally looked away, maybe to where Allura laughed, where Lance posed for a selfie with the locals, where Pidge had joined Hunk in explaining the gibberish behind that new gadget they had put together to predict Galra activity. 

It was easier to look at Shiro when he wasn’t being looked at; he stood a little behind him, adoring the regality of a kind man who commanded a team that was saving the Universe from a taint of centuries. A man who doesn’t deserve the burden but carries it nonetheless, never complaining, never faltering. 

Keith wished he would, at least in the private moments they used to have every so often. Such privacy was mostly gone, now that they slept in different quadrants of the Universe, probably obeying different schedules, eating different variations of the same food goo. He must have stared for long minutes, and he could only hope he was allowed a little more time to just… look at him.

**Shiro must have noticed because without even looking at Keith, he asked, “Everything okay over there? I can hear you thinking.”**

**Keith turned his face away so fast that he nearly gave himself whiplash. “I wasn’t thinking… much.”**

**He could perfectly imagine the look on Shiro’s face, one eyebrow raised in question and his expression contorted in confusion.**

**Finally, Shiro’s voice cut the silence. “Keith. Talk to me. What’s on your mind?”**

**_You._ ** **Keith wanted to say.** **_You and how much I love you._ **

“Nothing,” he ended up saying instead. A lie not strong enough to even convince himself. But if Shiro noticed, he didn’t make it obvious. “Just that we have got a lot to do before we’re ready for the final battle.”

“Yeah. Definitely,” Shiro might have added something about them being closer to their goal than they were before, but Keith’s focus wasn’t in the words Shiro spoke; rather, in the sound of his voice. The weight of the sound laying over him like a blanket, the gravity of the tone, the timbre, the rambling that went on for what could be a little portion of eternity. 

_ I love you _ , he wanted to say. But he wanted to hear it back.

Needed to.  _ Fuck _ , he felt like he could die if he didn’t hear it soon. 

Keith’s arms moved on their own, operating under the command of his heart rather than his common sense. He extended his arms until he felt the hardened surface of the Paladin breastplate, his forehead hitting it a little too hard but he didn’t compute the faint pain. He pulled Shiro close, making sure to hide his face as if it was any less embarrassing that way. As if his necessity wasn’t a weakness and weakness amid the war was a nuisance. But Keith  _ needed _ it. 

Shiro’s hand cupped the back of Keith’s neck, the glove pulling some strands by accident, his chin resting on top of Keith’s head. Keith nuzzled closer, taking in whatever he could —the scent, the feeling, the breathing, the closeness, something he so deeply craved for. Beyond the war, beyond Voltron or the Blades, just…

_ Them. _

For a second he was a lost boy again finding comfort in the kindness of a stranger.

Tender gestures, steady heartbeats and Shiro might have kissed his forehead, but the embrace was broken before Keith could dwell on that feeling. He opened his eyes when his chest was cold, when his body was ready to stumble forward at the sudden lack of support and Shiro was smiling at him. 

“We should get to the debriefing with Kolivan,” Shiro said, a poor excuse but a valid one. But Keith was no judge of that, they did have to check in with the Blades.

“Yeah. I’ll meet you there soon.”

Keith didn’t even know where “there” was, exactly, but he watched Shiro walk away with yet another piece of his heart. And the next time they’d meet, Shiro would unknowingly steal another piece. Another crack. Until there was nothing left of Keith but a body left soulless for unrequited love.

The sobbing came later than the tears did, he had barely noticed the wetness of his face. But Shiro had. The realization hit him like when someone steps a little too hard on the brakes and your nose meets the dashboard. Shiro had seen him cry and yet Shiro had left his tears to dry on the last seconds of the double sunset on a foreign planet.

Keith gulped dryly.

Shiro would never do that. Not to him, not to anyone, but fuck, especially not to Keith. 

Shiro walked up to the entrance of the Castle of Lions, saluting Kolivan with a gesture as they both traced their paths to the meeting room. His face was serious, as if he had had no sleep, but not like those nights back in the Garrison when he pulled an all-nighter on nothing but coffee and  _ Cheetos _ . It was something different. 

No, not just  _ something _ different, Keith realized, heart twitching and curling inside his chest, bile rising up to his mouth with remnants of his dinner before.

That was someone entirely different.

_ That’s not my Shiro. _


End file.
